Goodbye to a ‘good woman’

The deep impact of a low-profile former First Lady was highlighted when Mary Fenech Adami, 77, was laid to rest yesterday, the nation bidding her farewell in what resembled a state funeral.

Loved and respected, Mrs Fenech Adami, who passed away on Friday after suffering a heart attack at the wedding reception of the Prime Minister’s son six days before, left in her wake mourners from every walk of life.

Irrespective of who they were, they shared a common opinion: she was quite simply “a good woman”, who had remained down to earth, despite the important circumstances life had thrown at her when she married former Prime Minister and President Eddie Fenech Adami.

These qualities echoed around St Helen Square in her hometown, Birkirkara, where the public gathered to pay their last respects, greeting a cortège that had left from the Nationalist Party club in Valley Road, past her residence in High Street and on to the basilica, accompanied by the pomp and ceremony of three Birkirkara bands, the Boy Scouts, the public’s applause and strewn flowers. Her family followed the coffin, Dr Fenech Adami finding fortitude in his grandchildren.

The success of what was probably Mrs Fenech Adami’s most important job – that of wife and mother – was evident at her funeral in the form of the strong, united, extended family that had lost her.

Dr Fenech Adami sat by his five children and a grandson, who displayed the courage they probably inherited from their mother and supported each other in the send-off fit for the great woman behind them.

The church was splitting at the sides with dignitaries and politicians, including President George Abela and Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi, Opposition Leader Joseph Muscat, the diplomatic corps, MPs from both sides of the House, Archbishop Paul Cremona, Gozo Bishop Mario Grech, the vicar general and Apostolic Nuncio, and PN activists among many others.

But Mrs Fenech Adami moved in other circles too and the congregation was composed of several Karkariżi, fellow villagers, who considered her one of them.

A man from Qrendi, who had just undergone a facial operation, had no intentions of missing the funeral, Mrs Fenech Adami being his daughter’s godmother and “almost part of the family”.

The sea of flowers that bordered the pulpit listed a variety of organisations and individuals – even the white taxis.

To a Mass concelebrated by a host of priests, and the hymns of a choir under the direction of maestro Dion Buhagiar, her husband read the first reading from the Book of Wisdom.

The statesman retained the composure he too is renowned for, though the sadness in his eyes and voice contrasted with the more powerful tone the public was used to hearing from him in other circumstances.

Their only daughter, Maria Cassar, bravely tackled the second reading – both specifically selected by the family.

In his homily, archpriest Anton Cassar said: “Mary recognised how to live both the material and the spiritual world, realising they were one.”

Stressing on her strong faith, he said she used her talents for anyone who sought her help. Mrs Fenech Adami had understood that God was “the way, the truth and the life” and that His word would lead her to the victory of eternal life. She had now reached that moment in her pilgrimage – it was her victory.

Her qualities were probably best summed up in the bidding prayers by eight of “nanna Mary’s” beloved grandchildren who, in their innocence and simplicity, touched on the attributes that affected them most, from her patience even when she was sick and tired, to her generosity and her worldly advice.

“You always gave us goodies from your kitchen cupboard, even when our parents forbade us to have them,” said a little one, while another recalled nanna’s advice to “leave everything in the hands of God”.

Mrs Fenech Adami’s sons and son-in-law carried her coffin out of the basilica to the evocative voice of tenor Joseph Calleja and a lengthy applause that swept them through that trying moment.

Some held back the tears; but Nationalist MP Beppe Fenech Adami gave vent to his emotions, sobbing on his mother’s casket, while others stretched out their hands to touch it.

The public flocked to the family members as they emerged onto the parvis, everyone wanting to express their condolences and offer a consoling pat on the back.

The undying popularity of the former Prime Minister and the respect he commands also emerged through his wife’s funeral as the applause continued and the congregation swarmed towards him.

But Mrs Fenech Adami’s emotional and hearty farewell did not stem from the achievements of her family; it was clearly the result of who she was, and more importantly, who she remained.

When the crowd eventually dispersed and silence fell upon the village square again, everyone, from the butcher to the barmen, said she would be missed.

After all, the former First Lady did her own grocery shopping and regularly trudged to the Birkirkara market – habits and humility that hit home and touched the community.

“Everyone knew her and she spoke to everyone – you did not have to be wearing a suit”; “she never accepted to jump the queue when she was invited to, claiming she was no different from anyone”; and “she was anything but proud”, said the man in the street.

“She helped single mothers, buying them items they needed from her own pocket,” said the young man behind the bar.

“She never missed a single, daily Mass,” said two women from Gozo, who happened to be in town.